The Riddle
by KamikazeCreamPuff
Summary: Why is a raven like a writing desk?" Alice/Hatter


The Riddle, or Five Times Alice Gave the Wrong Answer, and One Time She Didn't.

1.

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" Hatter asked her one morning, without preamble, sitting down loudly at the breakfast table.

Alice glared at him blearily over the rim of her half-empty coffee cup. "Hatter, why do I care?"

"Nope, wrong!" he said with a cheeky smile, stealing her toast and walking away.

2.

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" Hatter asked her one evening, without preamble, in the middle of a commercial break.

Alice raised her eyebrow in his general direction. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

"It's my favorite riddle!"

"It's dumb."

Hatter pouted for a good twenty minutes before Alice relented and kissed him quite soundly in way of apology. And he accepted her apology quite readily, but he did not forget.

3.

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" Hatter asked her one afternoon, without preamble, meeting her at the door after her martial arts class with his customary kiss and cup of tea. Alice took a sip – Lavender with honey, perfect and exactly what she needed, as usual – and looked him square in the face.

"I bet that riddle has no answer," she said.

"Wrong!"

Alice sighed. "Be honest with me, Hatter – has anyone ever solved this riddle?"

"Nope." Hatter cackled. "This is fun!"

4.

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" Hatter asked her one night, without preamble, in the afterglow of some pretty amazing sex that had both begun and ended with her wearing his favorite straw hat. Alice looked down at him thoughtfully, wiping away a strand of her hair that had stuck to her sweaty cheek. She was feeling generous. Maybe she'd try to give him a real answer this time.

"Because it's your favorite joke," she ventured.

The corner of Hatter's mouth twitched upward in amusement. Without saying a word, he reached up, placing his warm, calloused hand behind Alice's neck and bringing her down to a kiss.

"Good guess," he murmured, kissing his way up to the spot just under her ear. "Very good guess." And then he surprised her by flipping them around so that she was suddenly trapped under him. He grabbed his hat from off her head and popped out some of the dents before putting it on.

"Still wrong, though."

5.

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" Hatter asked her one evening, without preamble, as Alice sat down for dinner.

Now, Alice had just experienced a particularly rough day including, but not limited to, misplacing her phone, forgetting a bag of groceries at the store, and losing an important document to a computer malfunction. So, she felt somewhat justified in snapping, with all the spite she could muster, "Hatter, I bet you don't even know what the answer is!"

Silence fell over the kitchen. Alice realized that she was gripping her fork so hard her knuckles had turned white… but Hatter looked at her with those big, brown eyes, and suddenly she felt all the anger drain out of her.

She put the fork down. "Hatter—"

"Don't say anything," he said, standing up and putting his plate in the sink. "Obviously it was a bad idea, a bad joke, I'm sorry it upset you, just…" he turned and stalked back into the bedroom. "…Just don't say anything."

Alice looked down at her plate of cold food and sighed.

6.

"Hatter," Alice said, without preamble, that night as she crawled into bed.

He didn't respond, just stared out the opposite window, refusing to look at her. He hadn't spoken another word to her the whole night. Alice slid up behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder, kissing the smooth skin on the back of his neck.

"Hatter…" she sighed. "That riddle is really important to you, isn't it?"

Hatter turned to look at her, and he looked so upset and depressed that Alice's breath caught in her throat. She rubbed her nose against his, trying to cheer him up, drawing back to give him a little half-smile before saying:

"They're both things that have been written on. Both things that Edgar Allen Poe wrote on, to be precise."

Alice saw his gaze snap into focus, looking at her with wild, widening, _twinkling_ eyes. And then slowly, wonderfully – simultaneous grins blossomed on both of their faces.

The next thing Alice knew, she was on her back, and Hatter was kissing her fiercely; his hands were around her waist, in her hair, his tongue tasting and teasing, and his chest hummed against hers with a barely suppressed laugh.

"You did it," he whispered, and Alice could feel his smile against her skin, his fingers tighten their hold on her. "My brilliant, wonderful Alice, you did it."


End file.
